Ana Seymour (13 page)

He sat back down on his bunk, heavily. “If that concludes our business, ladies, I’ll say good-evening,” he said curtly. “I was about to retire.”

“So tomorrow we put it to a vote?” Eulalie asked.

Jeb nodded, keeping his eyes on the older woman and off Kerry. “I’ll talk to Frank about it in the morning.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Kerry said softly, speaking for the first time. Her gaze held his for a few endless seconds before she turned and followed the procession of quietly triumphant women as they filed out of the room. Jeb waited until the door shut softly behind them, then he flopped back down on his bunk with a groan.

Kerry’s newly united women friends were jubilant when the vote went their way and the Gallivan wagon was allowed to continue on when the train pulled out of Fort Kearney two days later. But Kerry herself was wondering about the cost of her victory. She was delighted to be forming friendships with other women, something she’d never had the chance to do before, but at the same time, the two men who had become important to her seemed to have withdrawn from her life.

Scott had taken her refusal harder than she would have thought. She hadn’t really considered that his proposal was anything more than another of his kind offers to help her out of a problem. But evidently his feelings had been more deeply involved than he’d shown with his happy-go-lucky manner.

And Jeb was totally avoiding their wagon. He hadn’t even come by to give Patrick his morning rides, which had her brother watching the wagon master’s progress up and down the train with puzzled, hurt eyes.

Well, Kerry thought, she’d said she could make it in the West on her own, without the help of a man, and it looked as if she was going to have the chance to prove it.

She and Patrick had taken to making campfire with the Burnetts each night now that neither Scott nor Jeb seemed to want their company. Molly was finally feeling less self-conscious about her crush on Patrick, and the three children got along well, accomplishing their tasks with little fuss, then running off to join their friends along the train for a few games before the late summer sunset.

At first Kerry had tried to take her leave when the children did, thinking that Dorothy and John might want time to themselves. But at the continued urging of both, she’d begun staying later, sitting by the fire and sipping coffee. She appreciated the company. There was little joy for her sitting alone at her wagon, cramped as it was.

They’d reached the dry portion of the western Nebraska prairie—the desert, it was called. It was still covered with grass and dotted with wildflowers, but there was also more and more sagebrush and the occasional cactus. The dust from the trail was thicker, sometimes almost seeming to hang in the air as they passed through. Even with their handkerchiefs, the emigrants coughed.

Today had been the worst yet. The Burnetts and
the Gallivans had coughed intermittently all through supper, sometimes just from thinking about the dust.

“It’s going to be hard to start up again tomorrow morning,” Kerry said with a little sigh.

“It certainly is,” John agreed. “It’s a wonder there’s any prairie left out there—I feel as if I’ve got it all inside my lungs.”

“We should wet down the kerchiefs tomorrow,” Dorothy suggested.

John shook his head. “They’d dry in a minute in this heat. And, anyway, we can’t afford the water. You know what the captain said about this dry piece.”

“Not even for the girls?” Dorothy persisted. “They walked most of the way today, and they’re closer down to the dust.”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should ask Captain Hunter about it,” John said.

“What are you and Patrick doing for the dust, Kerry?” Dorothy asked.

“Same as you. Kerchiefs that within minutes turn so dusty themselves that they hardly seem to have an effect.”

“We could go look for the captain now,” Dorothy suggested. “At least he could tell us how long we’re going to be in the desert.”

Kerry felt a bit of a chill run down the back of her neck. She’d scarcely seen him in a week, but the memory of what had happened between her and Jeb back at the fort was as vivid as if it had occurred only minutes ago. “I should probably get some sleep,” she said quickly. Too quickly for the sharp-eyed Dorothy.

“What’s the problem between you and the captain?
Before Fort Kearney he was coming around your wagon almost every night. Now we never see him.”

Kerry shook her head vaguely. “He’s busy, I suppose.”

Dorothy frowned. The line between her eyebrows had gotten more pronounced after all the days in the sun. She watched Kerry a moment, then turned to her husband and said, “Why don’t you go find Captain Hunter, dear, and discuss the matter with him? Ask him what we can do to keep our girls from coughing.”

John nodded agreement, then untangled his long legs and stood. “I’ll be back after a spell,” he said, and started down the line of wagons at an easy lope.

Dorothy’s eyes followed him with a fond gaze.

“You’re a lucky woman,” Kerry said. “John’s a good man for you.”

“A good husband and a good father,” she agreed with a smile. “But I sent him away so that we could talk about you. Tell me about Captain Hunter.”

Kerry was closer to Dorothy than she’d ever been to any woman in her life, but there was absolutely no way she could get herself to talk about that night on the riverbank with another living soul. “What about him? You know he was against my continuing on the train. He would never have agreed to take me if it hadn’t been for all of you.”

Dorothy leaned to throw a couple fat sticks on the fire. They landed on the pile with a flare. “And…?” she asked patiently.

“And what?”

“And what else about you and Jeb Hunter?”

Kerry shifted away from the sudden intense heat of the fire. “And nothing. He’s angry with me, I think.”

“Hmm.” Dorothy’s blue eyes had a devilish gleam. “My grandma once told me that men only get angry with women they’re sweet on.”

Kerry flushed. “Don’t be silly, Dorothy. Jeb Hunter is definitely not sweet on me. As a matter of fact, he strikes me as the kind of man who wouldn’t be sweet on anyone.”

“Well, I imagine he was sweet on his wife.”

“Wife?” Kerry didn’t know why the news surprised her. The captain must be close to thirty years old. Few men reached that age without marrying.

“You never heard his story? He had a beautiful young bride. They’d only been married a few months when she was killed while she was staying alone in their cabin, murdered, they say.”

Kerry gasped.

“I guess he’s never completely recovered from the shock. I try to think of that when he gets a bit, you know,
overbearing.
I suppose going through something like that would turn any man kind of hard.”

“I suppose,” Kerry agreed softly with a little shudder. “How very awful for him.”

“But it’s been several years now. He’s been guiding wagons ever since. I suppose he figures it would be hard for him to settle back down in California.”

Kerry’s mind was whirring with the news she’d just heard. The tragedy of Jeb’s young bride might have something to do with his adamant stand against single women on his train. Suddenly it made more sense, and made her feel more charitably toward the handsome captain for the first time since they’d left Fort
Kearney. It made him seem a little less like some stubborn male who simply wouldn’t acknowledge a woman’s capabilities.

“So what do you say?” Dorothy asked.

“Hmm?” Kerry had entirely lost the thread of the conversation.

“Haven’t you been listening to me, Kerry? Maybe you’re too sleepy to tackle this tonight.”

“Tackle what?” Kerry asked contritely, now turning her full attention back on her friend.

“Talking to Jeb Hunter. I was suggesting that we go find John and join in the discussion about the desert, then John and I could just sort of leave and you’d have a chance to be alone with him.”

The very idea made Kerry’s stomach flutter. She didn’t want to be alone with Jeb. Especially not this minute. Not until she’d had some time to digest this new information Dorothy had given her so casually. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she answered.

Dorothy stood up and shook out her skirts. “Nonsense. You two have been pussyfooting around each other for days. Poor Patrick can’t get his rides anymore because the captain’s afraid to come within ten yards of your wagon. And you’re moping by yourself every night because you’ve turned down one eligible male and have talked yourself into being scared of another.”

As usual, Dorothy’s plain speaking made Kerry feel as if she were taking everything a little too seriously. Her friend was right. It was silly for her and Jeb to avoid talking to each other. The same with Scott. She should just march up to them both, stick out her hand and say, “Truce. Let’s be friends.”

Slowly she got to her feet. “I’ll go with you,” she said, “but just to find out about the desert crossing and to be…friendly. I’m not interested in having you leave me alone with him.”

“Coward,” Dorothy said with a smile.

Kerry chuckled reluctantly. “You’re right about Patrick. He misses his morning rides. It’s only natural for a boy who’s just lost his father to look up to someone in authority like that. But as far as my relationship with Jeb, it’s strictly business. My father paid a fee for his services as a guide, and I’m now availing myself of those services. That’s as far as it goes.”

“Jeb?”
Dorothy asked as she put her arm fondly around Kerry’s waist and started walking with her up the line to the Todds’ wagon. The smile in her voice deepened her Virginian accent. “Kerry, girl, you can talk until the creek starts flowing upstream, but find someone else to try your ‘strictly business’ tale on, because my mother’s daughter was not born a fool.”

K
erry might have expected that Dorothy would pay no attention to her request not to be left alone with Jeb Hunter. They’d arrived to find John and Jeb sitting around the Todds’ campfire with Eulalie, Frank and the two mountain men, Foxy and Daniel, who had joined up with the train at Fort Kearney. The grizzled veterans had decided to walk with them for a spell just to have some company until they headed back up into the mountains for another round of trapping before the snows came.

Kerry had been happy to see the size of the group. It meant that there would be no question about her having to carry on a conversation by herself with their wagon master. But they hadn’t even had time to finish the cup of coffee that Eulalie had pressed on them when Foxy and Daniel stood up and said they were going to seek out their bedrolls. Frank and Eulalie agreed and retired to their wagon. And in short order Dorothy, just as she had promised, stood, hauled John to his feet and said, “We have to go track down the girls. It’s past their bedtime. But I believe Kerry has
some more questions for you about this next stretch of trail coming up. We’ll just let you two talk it over and she can pass on any useful information to us tomorrow.”

John stumbled, a little off balance at being suddenly yanked from his comfortable seat by the fire, but he took one look at his wife’s raised eyebrows and followed along without protest.

Suddenly everyone was gone. Kerry hadn’t even had time to think up her own excuses for saying goodnight.

“You had some questions about the trail?” Jeb asked, pleasantly enough, but his voice was nowhere near as cordial as it had been during the earlier part of their trip.

The evening was warm and still. The dust that had hung around them all day had finally settled, and the black prairie sky was clear overhead. It was too beautiful a night to feel resentful. In fact, Kerry gave a half smile at Dorothy’s impudence. She couldn’t very well complain about her friend’s determined behavior. After all, Dorothy’s toughness and Eulalie’s gentle insistence were a big part of the reason that Kerry was still with the train.

But unlike Dorothy, who’d been raised by Southern belles, Kerry had never learned how to play those dissembling male-female games. “I think my friend was trying to leave us alone together,” she said bluntly.

The careful veneer of politeness on Jeb’s face slipped a little. He licked his lips and then said, “And just why would she want to do that, Miss Gallivan?”

She gave another half smile. Good. It appeared that
he was ready to be equally blunt. Perhaps they would get something accomplished after all. “She thought I should ask you why you’ve been avoiding our wagon. I can understand that you might still be angry with me, but surely you have no particular bone to pick with Patrick.”

Jeb reached for the coffeepot to pour himself another cup. He gestured to the cup she still held in her hands, but she shook her head. She had the feeling that he was stalling for time while he considered how to answer her.

“Are you still angry with me, Captain?” she asked softly.

He put the pot back near the fire and looked up at her. “No,” he said.

“Then, why…”

“I think you know the answer to that question, Kerry.”

Now there was a look in his eyes that took her back instantly to the moment just before he had reached for her on the riverbank. It was a look more palpable than a touch. A swift stab of feeling plunged through her middle and she drew in a breath. “Because of…” She tried to make her breathing even out so the question wouldn’t sound stammered. “Because of what happened back at the fort?”

Jeb looked angry, but this time she didn’t think the anger was directed toward her. “Because of what happened back at the fort,” he said brusquely. “And because of the possible consequences if that should ever happen again.”

“It…it won’t happen again,” Kerry said in a small
voice. “And…I’m not upset about it anymore, so you don’t have to worry.”

He was several feet away from her, but she could feel a certain heat between them, much the way it had been that night, when it had built so suddenly into something she still found herself remembering every night as she closed her eyes to sleep.

He felt it again, too. She could see it in the quick flare of his nostrils, the predatory look in his eyes. She had to get out of here…quickly. She rose to her feet and held out the cup. “I have to go,” she said nervously. “I…ah…should go find Patrick.”

He was on his feet the second she stood. He reached for the cup, but then held both it and her hand in his without letting go. His fingers were warm and strong, hers slender and cool, even holding the lukewarm coffee.

“You’re not upset about it anymore?” he asked in a low voice. “Which means that you were upset at the time.”

“Well, yes, but then I realized that it really had been just a little kiss and hadn’t meant anything…”

Her voice trailed off as his eyes denied her assertion.

She tried again. “It’s just that I’m not very experienced in these things, so it took me by surprise.”

She tugged on her hand a little but he held it firm. “That much, at least is obvious,” he said dryly, and when she began to protest his rudeness, he shook his head and continued, “because if you were at all experienced, you’d know that what we shared that night was not ‘just a little kiss.’”

She pulled on her hand again, feeling silly over the
minor battle of it, but this time he let her go, keeping the cup. In spite of the return of her nervous flutters, his vehement words made her smile. “All right,” she agreed. “It was more than a little kiss. I guess I’m experienced enough to know that much.”

“Good,” Jeb said curtly. “Then you should also know enough to understand why I’m avoiding a repetition of that event.”

“You…didn’t like it,” she ventured.

Jeb rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Your naiveté, child, would try the patience of a saint. And I’m no saint, Kerry Gallivan.”

“And I’m no child,” she snapped, glaring at him.

He threw his head back and laughed. “Lord, no. You’re no child. And when you get that hell-forleather look in your eyes, I’d match you up against any woman west of the Mississippi, regardless of age. But that’s precisely the problem.”

“What is?”

Jeb took a step back from her and set down her cup on a rock. He didn’t look in her eyes as he confessed, “I’m attracted to you, Kerry. I…
remember
that kiss. All too well. In fact, just looking at you makes me want to do it all over again. So it’s easier not to look at you.”

Kerry hesitated a moment, then asked, “So you intend to travel all the way from here to California without looking at me?”

Realizing the absurdity of that notion, Jeb grinned at her. “I could wear blinders like the mules.”

She was forced to smile back at the ridiculous suggestion, and she couldn’t resist saying, “There are
people who might say you share some characteristics with those animals, Captain.”

His grin stayed in place, as he shook his head at her and said, “I thought it was going to be Jeb now.”

“Not if you refuse to look at me for the next ten weeks.”

The touch of humor had dissolved the tension between them, and for the first time in days they stood in comfortable companionship. It felt good to Kerry, and she suspected it was feeling good to Jeb, too.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to make the sacrifice every now and then and look at you. Does it have to be every day?”

Kerry giggled. He was actually playing with her now, which was a side of Jeb Hunter she’d never seen before. “Well, let’s say once a day. I’ll try to keep it from being such an onerous task,” she teased. “At least I don’t have to rub dirt on my cheeks anymore.”

Jeb’s smile dimmed a little. “I’m afraid none of us will have to rub extra dirt on our cheeks over these next few days. We’ll all have plenty naturally.”

“So it
is
going to get drier?” she asked.

He nodded. “Foxy and Daniel say there’s been hardly any rain in the territory since clear last fall.”

“But there’s enough water along the trail.”

“As long as we stick by the rivers.”

She could hear some hesitation in his answer. “Then we’ll stick by the rivers, right? It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

He looked up at the sky and around the camp before his eyes finally swiveled back to her. “Yes, it’s what makes sense.”

Certain that he was avoiding telling her something, she persisted, “Except for what?”

He sighed, but this time did not look away. “Except that with a season this dry, it’s the only thing that makes sense for the Indians, too.”

The slight warmth that had taken over his voice and his expression when they’d been bantering earlier disappeared. Once again his face was stern. Kerry would have liked to ask further details about the Indians, but his cold demeanor seemed to shut off their discussion.

“Do you expect problems?” she ventured.

“My only problem will be falling asleep in the saddle tomorrow if I don’t get some sleep,” he said, throwing the remainder of his coffee on the dying fire.

The comment was again just at the edge of rudeness. Kerry took a step backward with a little trip. “I’ll say good-night, then,” she mumbled. And he answered her only with a nod as she turned to make her way back up the line of wagons.

Kerry had not told anyone about Jeb’s comment regarding the possibility of an encounter with the unfriendly natives, but somehow word had spread through the train that such a meeting was a possibility, especially when water in the region had grown so scarce, which meant that everyone would be seeking the same limited resources.

The children had replaced their river games with make-believe plays about settlers and Indians. The adults watched with bemusement and said inner prayers that the childish fantasies would not have any real-life counterparts.

In spite of the new worry, Kerry was feeling happier than she had since before her father’s death. The morning after her discussion with Jeb at the Todd wagon, he had appeared to collect Patrick for their morning ride as if there had never been any break in the routine.

Patrick had tried to appear nonchalant about the resumption of his friendship with Jeb, but Kerry knew that secretly he was delighted about it. And Kerry had to admit to herself that the wagon master’s resumed visits to their wagon were also brightening her days. She began to look forward to seeing his tall form riding toward them, straight and proud on Storm’s back. She found herself taking a little more care with her appearance in the morning, tugging with frustration each day on her cropped hair and wishing that the glossy black strands that had been cut off back in St. Louis could somehow magically appear again.

She’d started wearing her own clothes again. She told herself it was so that she wouldn’t alienate the women on the train who had helped her. It had nothing to do with the way Jeb looked at her in her more shapely attire.

Scott was still staying away. She’d tried to talk with him one night, and the conversation had embarrassed them both, so she’d decided to give him time to let the hurt of her rejection of his suit heal.

Which left a clear field for Jeb, and each day he seemed to take a little more advantage of that fact He’d started coming for Patrick both morning and afternoon. Then a couple of afternoons he casually stayed on to help them build their evening fire, at which point she’d felt obliged to invite him to stay to
supper. And so the custom had been born. Now it was understood up and down the train that at the supper hour, Captain Hunter could be found at the Gallivan wagon. Secret bets were placed on how long it would take the serious captain to admit that he had fallen for the spirited young Irishwoman.

Kerry and Jeb were oblivious to the talk, but had developed their own version of gambling as each night brought them closer and closer to a repetition of their first shattering kiss.

Kerry, in fact, was ready to let it happen. Jeb had made it clear that he was not interested in settling down or taking a wife. So exchanging a few kisses with him in the moonlight would pose no risk to her plans. It would simply be another lesson to add to the many she would have to learn out West, she told herself.

Jeb was the one who resisted. After that first discussion when he had admitted that he was attracted to her, his conversation had been totally circumspect. He talked with her in tones no different from those he used for Patrick. Occasionally she thought she could see that
look
in his eyes, but it was always carefully shuttered by the time she tried to be sure.

The train was making painfully slow progress along the broad, dry plain of the Platte River. There had been no sign of Indians, though Jeb carefully checked for tracks or evidence of recent campsites. But when the women asked for a break, he’d shake his head. He wanted to get through this territory as quickly as possible.

“We keep pushing until we reach Independence Rock,” he’d told them at a camp meeting. “Gateway
to the Rockies. If we make it there by the Fourth of July, we’ve done it. We’ll be over the mountains to California before the early fall snows.”

Kerry felt the closeness developing between them almost as powerfully as the physical attraction. She would have liked to know more about his wife, but had been hesitant to bring up the subject. She sensed that it was the one topic that could bring back the aloof Captain Hunter, that would drive Jeb away from their nightly campfires.

“Jeb’s not coming until later,” Patrick informed her one evening. “He’s riding ahead to scout around the bend of the river and be sure there aren’t any Injuns lurking there ready to scalp us.”

“Patrick!” Kerry scolded. “I’m sure if there are Indians around, they’re not lurking. The Indians are a very proud people. And I don’t think they’d do any scalping, either, unless we bothered them first.”

“Jeb says the white folk have bothered them plenty. That they have a right to hate us.”

“And why are you calling him Jeb? It’s not respectful.”

Patrick grinned at her. “You call him Jeb. And, besides, he told me I could.”